𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 16
Plankton's antennae
twitch, and his
body relaxes further
into the embrace.
He's safe here, with
his son, in a world
that so often feels
like too much. Chip
doesn't need him to
be like everyone else,
and that knowledge
brings him peace.
The room is silent
but for the soft
snores of Plankton
as he drifts into
sleep. His breathing
is even, his body
finally at ease.
Chip watches him,
his own eyes growing
heavy. He's learned
so much today,
about his dad,
about himself, about
their complex life.
He lies back, his
head resting on the
pillow, his arm
still wrapped
around his dad.
How can he show
love to him? To be a
supportive son?
The next morning
Chip awoke to find
his mom gathering
their suitcases, as
they'd make the
drive back home
today. She put Chip's
trophy and ribbon in
his suitcase. Plankton's
still asleep, his head
on Chip's shoulder.
Chip felt a gentle
warmth in his chest
looking at his dad,
his antennae slightly
quivering in his sleep.
He didn't want to wake
him too abruptly. So,
he gently began to
move his fingers
along Plankton's arm.
The soft touch seemed
to resonate within
Plankton's dream, his
body giving a slight
twitch. Chip took a
deep breath and continued,
his fingertips tracing
slow circles, hoping
it would be enough
to rouse him without
causing distress.
Plankton's antennae
twitched again,
picking up on the
comforting pattern.
"Dad?" Chip
whispered, his
voice gentle. He did
not want to startle
his father, who
was finally at
rest after the
overwhelming day.
Plankton's antennae
twitched again,
his eye still closed.
"DAD," Chip tried
again, a little too
loud this time.
Plankton jolted
awake, his antennae
springing to life.
"What?" He asked,
his voice filled with
slumber. Chip felt
his heart race. "It's
time to go home, Dad.."
Plankton's antennae
relaxed at the
familiar voice, his
body slowly moving
from the warmth of
his son's embrace. He
sat up, rubbing his
eye. "Home," he repeats,
his mind slowly
waking up to the
world around him.
Karen looked up
from her packing,
smiling at the
scene. "That's
right," she said, her
voice soft. "We need
to get going."
Plankton blinked
slowly. "Home,"
he murmurs again.
Chip nodded.
"Yeah, home," he
says, his voice
trembling slightly.
He'd had enough
of the repetition,
his mind craving
a break from the
endless cycle of
his dad's words.
Plankton's facial
expression remains
neutral, his eye
not quite focusing.
"Home" he parrots,
his voice flat. "Ho-"
Chip's patience
starts to fray. "Yes,
Dad, home," he says,
his tone sharper
than he intended. He's
tired of the same
words, the same
questions, the same
look of confusion.
It's like talking to
a broken record.
"You DON'T have to
repeat everything," he
exclaims, making
Plankton jump.
Karen pauses in
her packing, her
heart racing. She
knows this is a
moment that can
spiral quickly, but
she also knows
Chip's frustration
is real, too.
"Chip," she says,
her voice calm.
"Remember, Dad's
autism makes
things hard for
him. He's just
trying to
make sense of
what we're
saying." She
crosses the room
to stand beside
them, her hand
on Chip's shoulder.
Plankton's antennae
are still.
Chip's face softens.
"Okay, Dad," he says,
his voice gentle. "We're
going home soon."
He reaches up to
stroke Plankton's
cheek.
But Plankton's
reaction isn't what
he expects. His
dad's antennae
snap back, and his
face contorts in
discomfort. "Chip,"
he says, his voice
strained. "No."
Chip's hand
freezes, his eyes
wide with shock. He
quickly withdraws
his touch, his
heart racing. "I'm
sorry," he whispers.
"I didn't mea-"
But Plankton
doesn't let him
finish. "No," he
says again, more
firmly this time.
"I don't like that!"
"Dad," Chip says,
his voice small.
"What's w---"
But Plankton
interrupts, his
voice rising. "I said
no, Chip! I DON'T
WANT THAT!" His
hands balled into
fists. Karen
moves closer.
The room feels
smaller, the air
thicker. Chip
swallows hard. "I'm
sorry," he says again.
"I didn't kn-" "I
JUST WANT TO GO
HOME!" Plankton
shouts over Chip.
"So STOP TOUCHING
ME!" His antennae
vibrate in frustration,
a rare show of his
physical anger.
"I don't want to
be touched right
now!"
Karen's eyes
fill with sadness.
She knows Plankton's
boundaries, has seen
his frustration boil
over before. But
it never gets
easier, never
hurts less. But
Chip wants to
fix it, in the only
way he knows how.
He reaches out
his hand again,
slowly, tentatively,
his eyes searching
his father's. "It's
okay, Dad," he says,
his hand hovering
above Plankton's
shoulder. "I just
wa-"
But Plankton's
frustration turns to
fear. "NO!" He yells,
his body tensing.
"PLEASE!"
Chip's hand
freezes in midair,
his eyes wide with
surprise and
hurt. He hadn't
meant to upset
his dad so much.
He'd just wanted
to help. So he pulls
his hand back, but
accidentally brushes
his arm against
Plankton's. The
contact is light,
barely noticeable
to anyone else, but
for Plankton, it's
like a jolt of electricity.
Plankton's antennae
shiver violently,
his body convulsing.
His one eye
rolls back in his
head as he
collapses onto the
bed, his legs
thrashing against
the mattress. Karen
sighs.
"Another seizure,"
Karen says. "It's his
brain's way of
dealing with stress,"
she explains.
Chip nods, his
heart racing. Plankton's
tiny body convulses
on the hotel bed,
his antennae flailing
wildly. Karen quickly
moves to his side.
Her eyes never
leave his. She's done
this before, so
many times, but
each seizure still
slices through her
like a knife. "It's
okay," she murmurs
as Chip watched.